One Last Day
by dunklenatt
Summary: One of the Seigaku regulars' last day. Drabble? Maybe. Deathfic.
1. One Last Day

Haha… this demands to get out since earlier today. My muse would not rest until I've written it out. Short, probably can be called a drabble. Told from a first person's POV. Try and guess who it is… lol! Unbeta'ed, so sorry for the grammar, if there's any grammar mistakes all around. Keep in mind it's now 3.52am... lol!

Enjoy your reading!

* * *

It seems as if I'd been sleeping for quite some time. And yet, I still felt so tired.

I had woken up to find hushed voices all around me; people talking in low volumes, with the thought of being as quiet as possible in their minds. But they still end up with voices that are too loud, much louder than they thought, without realising it.

I had opened my eyes to see people with slightly red, puffy eyes staring at me. It had seemed to me as if all conversation stopped.

_What am I doing here? _

I'd thought I'd told everyone about my wish. I'd thought everyone knew I'd wanted to be at home.

"Don't give me that look," my mother had said, giving me a quick hug but still being careful as if somehow she didn't want to crush me. I had wanted to tell her it's okay, I'm not that fragile.

I looked around again. Everyone had been there: my closest family, my best friends, my team mates from Seigaku, my good friends and used-to-be-archrivals from Fuodomine, Rokkaku, Hyotei and even Rikkaidai. Heck, even Atobe and Mizuki and Kirihara had been there.

That was when I knew I didn't have much time. I had known from the start why they're all there. I'd known from the faces of the doctors who talked to my family members, and to some of my closest friends. They must've told the others.

It must have been frightening for them when I collapsed after that match I had with that American player. Somehow, when I stepped into the court, I had known it's going to be my last match. I had won anyway; and I heard the umpire announced it was 6 games to 2. My team had been overjoyed. But their joy soon turned to fear when I had collapsed. I had known that they would find out, and it's already too late for them to do anything.

"We tried," a voice had said.

I had tried to focus on him, but it was quite hard. Nevertheless, I think he knew I was trying to look at him. The drugs the doctors had prescribed had kept me in the embrace of Sleep all the time. But I had fought. I had to tell them.

"I'm sorry," Tezuka had said.

Yes, I could still recognised people. All of them had hung their heads down low, disappointed that they couldn't help me.

"It's okay," I had told them. Even just those two words, it had been tiring for me. But I had pushed on. No one has ever seen my limits before. Perhaps they never would. But somehow I had felt as if I was showing them now.

This had been my limits. This was where I had to stop and go down the bus. And I had known this was where my journey ends; while their journeys had just started.

I had told them that I enjoyed my life so far, I loved being around them, I loved the attention everyone gave me, I loved the adrenaline coursing through me every time they put me on all the matches we had, I loved the feel of our victories, I loved it when we all held the trophies that were awarded to us, I felt pride when I displayed those medals and trophies I had in the glass shelf in the living room of my house.

I had told them it was okay that they couldn't help me. I had told them I hadn't expected them to be able to do so, since even my family members couldn't as well. I had told them I had expected all of this. I had known it would happen – it's just a matter of time, it's just sooner or later. This was something that couldn't be helped. Nothing could've saved me.

I had told them how much I appreciated their help, how much I loved the challenges that they gave me. I had told them that I had no regrets going this far with them, I had no regrets for all the injuries I had, for all the fun times we had together.

What I didn't tell them was that I had just one small disappointment. I regretted I didn't tell him that I loved him, that I'd always loved him, and that I'd always had feelings for him, even until now. It had been too late to tell him now. Deep down inside, I had wished that he'd have a happy life after this.

And I had slept after I told them everything. I had known that this was going to be the sleep where I'd never wake up, where I'd fall into that black abyss that awaited me.

When the time had come, I saw Her. She was cloaked in black, with a hood over Her head. But Her face – it was so pretty. Needless to say, She was beautiful. Funny how they had always portrayed Her as a man instead, as a he, with a face that was void of everything, with the hood of a cloak that covered not a face, not a anatomical structure but emptiness; the hood as if held up by nothing but air.

I had known She'd come; I had waited as Time played her hands. She opened her arms, and smiled at me; as if to say it's nothing to be afraid of and that everyone has to talk a walk down this very same path one day in his life. And I had walked.

I never turned back. I never looked back.

I walked into the embrace of the Angel of Death.

- fin


	2. The Journey Home

Again, this is un-beta'ed, so sorry for any grammar mistakes or tenses mistakes whatsoever. English isn't my first language. This takes place on theday after his death. Enjoy.

* * *

The day of the funeral had been depressing; too depressing, really. The rain seemed to fall endlessly – I had a notion that even the skies were crying for his death.

I looked around me. Everyone was wearing black – nothing but black – and some huddled closely under their umbrellas while others ignored the rain that was pouring down relentlessly, despite their clothes which seemed heavy with trapped moisture. Packets of tissue were passed around; people taking some out when a packet reached them.

I couldn't bring myself to cry, not even a single tear. It seemed as if my eyes were too dry to shed a single of tear. Somehow, I felt as if it's a shame to myself as everyone around me was crying abashedly, openly for him; everyone except me.

But he knew. He knew that I'd been crying ever since. Maybe it's not crying; just tears escaping my eyes – no hiccups, no strange strangled sound from deep inside – there're just tears.

I went up to the hole they'd dug for the coffin. He was already inside there, the lid covering his still form. I saw him earlier, when we were at the church; he was all dressed up in a white suit, his hair fixed like how he'd liked it, his face powdered lightly so as the deathly pallor it wore since that day wouldn't be that obvious. His arms were arranged so that his forearms lay across his stomach. Even his shoes were polished to their best.

He looked serene though. As if he preferred to be dead. As if death has been the option that he'd chosen all along; as if he didn't mind that he hadn't had a longer life on Earth, with us.

Those who attended the small church service were quite large in number; most of them were friends from various schools, even his archrivals found time to attend the service. His family members were seated on the first few pews; his best friends and closest classmates on the pews directly behind his family members.

We stood among his family members, the handful of us surrounding the six-feet-deep hole; heads bowed down as the priest finished the last of his blessings. Murmurs of "_Amen_" were heard throughout the small crowd as soon as he finished.

I took a few steps behind and waited as everyone threw their roses in. Mizuki threw a white rose that had a purple ribbon tied around it.

"So as he'd know it's from me. I'll miss him," he had said when asked.

Atobe had thrown in a pink rose.

Even Kaidoh threw a white rose in. But only after he took off the black bandanna he was wearing and knotted it around the frail stem of the rose he was holding.

Tears finally leaked out from the corners of my eyes; it actually hurt when I closed my eyes and let the tears run freely. The rain kept coming down, enveloping me in its icy grip. I was cold, I was wet – soaked to the bones – but I didn't care. I looked over to the others. Kaidoh and Inui were as soaked as I was, and so were the rest.

I finally stepped up to the hole that had been dug. I squatted down and threw in a deep red rose.

_I'm missing you already._

Why did you have to go? Why didn't you tell us? Why did you have to hide?!

It hurt to cry. The rain mingled with the tears on my face. But suddenly, I didn't feel the rain anymore. I didn't look up though. Someone put a hand on my shoulder.

"He'll remember you, don't worry."

I looked up to find his sister; tears streaming down her face as well. I got up slowly and pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm so sorry." My throat hurt. It felt as if someone had shoved a wad of flannel cloth down my throat, scraping the walls dry – so dry that it hurt.

"Why? Why are you sorry?" Had been her reply. "It's not your fault." Her hold around me tightened as another round of fresh tears threatened to spill from my eyes.

"We should've known. We could've helped." I nearly wailed. But it came out a gravel-y whisper, whisper almost inaudible.

"It's alright."

That simple answer managed to draw more tears from me.

My heart ached when the gravediggers started to cover the hole that they'd dug. Each shovelful of soil that was flung into the hole was like a stab in the heart for me. The sound of the shovels hitting the wet soil, the squishy sound of the gravel and mud-like soil hitting the lid of the coffin was like a punch on that soft area where the ribs end and the stomach begins.

I felt as if I couldn't breathe as I watched the slow process of burying the coffin. But I held on. I stood there, tall and proud. And my heart continued to ache at each scraping sound the shovel made. One painful stab for one shovel of soil. One painful stab for one shovel of soil…

------

I promise I'll tell who died when I get my next chapter out from my muse. Thanx for reading and reviewing! Your guesses are appreciated and amusing, really. So, we'll see who's right and who's wrong in the next chapter. Jaa.

P/s: How come there're only 2 guesses - Ryoma and Fuji? Just curious... hehe.


	3. Winding Road

The three youths stood there together, their heads bowed down in a silent prayer.

"Ne, Fuji, happy birthday." Saeki placed a really small cactus in its beautifully crafted pot on the slab. A single tear made its way slowly down his cheek. "It just feels so strange standing here… even after so long. I love you." He mumbled inaudibly, so low was his voice that even Tezuka and Eiji who stood beside him couldn't hear him. He stepped back then, running a hand down his face, wiping away the hot tears that were flowing more freely now. He turned, mumbled an excuse and walked away from the other two teenagers.

Eiji stepped up then and this time, he put a blue rose on the cold marble. "Nya, remember this? You taught me, nya, how to make a white rose into different colours." He sniffled as he stepped back, his eyes slightly red. His voice broke on his next sentence. "I'll remember it forever, nya." Tears spilt as he stepped back to his place beside Tezuka.

Wordlessly, their stoic former team captain handed Eiji a packet of tissue.

"You go on first, Kikumaru."

Eiji nodded. Although he didn't want to the leave, he couldn't help it. He felt so depressed. Depression and his usually happy-go-lucky, bouncy, hyperactive behaviour don't mix well. He wove his way out through the confusing maze of white marble and stones, barely noticing the bouquets of flowers that lied on some stones – at least they brought an occasional change to the usually gloomy colour spectrum.

Tezuka waited until Eiji was out of sight.

"Happy birthday, Fuji. We miss you," Tezuka said, sighing softly as he stepped forward and put two deep blood-coloured roses on the cold marble slab. He stepped back. His emotions were going overboard again; he felt his chin quiver, he felt the tears stinging his eyes.

He squatted before the marble slab. "I'd always thought that I'd be able to ask you out one day. I'd always thought that it could wait, at least, until we finish our school or something. But now…" he lowered his head, his shoulders hunched. His voice broke as he struggled to continue. "I didn't know … I should've collected my guts and asked you out on a date, a proper date, not just for ice-creams or a new pot of your cactus or whatever we did when we're out together. Why–"

Tezuka lifted his head looked at the picture in the middle of the cold marble stone through tear-blurred eyes. Brilliant blue eyes looked back at him – eyes so blue it reminded him of the lighter side of the sky, eyes that were once so filled with life, eyes that were once so cold when he sensed danger, eyes that once held a glint of mischief; eyes so captivating he thought he'd drown in them. Why didn't he tell Fuji?

"I love you," he whispered in a voice so low. He got up to his feet again; his eyes never once left the picture on the stone.

The brunet touched the intricate roses and leaves and vines that were etched into the corners of the stone that was at the foot of the marble slab. He ran his fingers softly along the name that was etched and coloured in gold acrylic on the cold stone. The tips of his fingers made contact with the two lines that were engraved finely beneath the other two lines that told of the person it commemorated; his name and the years that he lived.

As he ran his fingers lovingly across the engravings on the stone, Tezuka continued to stare at the picture, remembering the fine lines on the beautifully chiselled face; features so perfect he was sure they were made right from the hands of the Creator. He seemed to be cherishing the features – the slant of the nose, the bump of his chin, remembering, imprinting and superimposing the face into his memory, until he could see it in his mind's eye. Until he comes back again some other day.

Somehow satisfied, Tezuka wiped at the tears on his face. He walked away from the grave of Fuji Syuusuke; knowing that the pain will never be completely gone, and even though it had been a few years, he felt as if time hadn't help, not even a bit. He could still remember that day when the thin fragile-like boy had collapsed; he could still remember the anguish, the pain he'd felt when the doctors told him that there's nothing they could do to spare Fuji's life. He felt so guilty that he didn't ask Fuji out, he felt bad that he couldn't be the one to pleasure or cater to Fuji's needs.

No, time still didn't help to ease the pain that Tezuka's feeling – the great pain and guilt that he'd have to carry to his grave.

-

There won't be any goodbyes.

I won't permit that. And Eiji, of course I remember the blue rose. But the one we made was purple, remember? But I'm glad you can remember the process. I miss you too, Eiji.

Saeki, I'm glad you still remember what type of cactus I like. Take care of Yuuta for me; take care of him like how you took care of us when we were small.

And Tezuka, I miss you too. And don't say goodbye to me; don't blame yourself. I know I'll die one day. I know no one is able to help me, so you don't have to keep blaming yourself, telling yourself that it's your fault I couldn't be cured. I didn't know you have such feelings for me; I'm sorry. I should've known. I should've noticed. I love you, Kunimitsu; it's just that you don't know.

Still, thank you all the same. All of you had been there for me when I needed you the most. And I know it still hurts, but thank you for having the strength to let me go.

-

Eurgh… so I guess it's explanation time now.

In fact, most of you are right… I think. Fuji's the one who died. At first, when I wrote the first chapter, I wanted it to be a one-shot. But then, you'd want to know who I killed in this fic. The thing is, even I don't know who would deserve such a death at such a young age (and yes, the first chapter took place right after the Japan team versus the American team game; which was why I wrote that he defeated the American player). So, I wrote the second chapter. Halfway through the second chapter, I still had no idea who should die. I discussed with my friend about it, and I told her I wanted to make it either Eiji or Fuji. I won't kill Ryoma coz somehow I just can't see him dying that kind of miserable death or something… I dunno, Ryoma just wasn't on my mind. I wanted to make it Eiji at first, but looking back at the first chapter and some of the other factors, I realised I can't make it Eiji. I didn't put in the Eiji-factors. If you remember, the first chapter is written through the dying boy's POV. I wouldn't think of killing Kawamura, coz that's just wrong. I don't want to kill Kaidoh or Inui because I'd already planned the black bandanna thing even before I finished chapter 1. Killing Inui is … I dunno, kinda absurd. And no, Oishi didn't even cross my mind.

Second chapter: I think that should be through Saeki's POV. Because Saeki's Fuji's childhood friend. He watches Fuji as Fuji grows up, he's always there for Fuji, so naturally (or at least, to me), Fuji's death will affect him in some ways, although it's quite hard to write because PoT didn't really show Saeki a lot, and I don't really know how Saeki usually acts. In my opinion, he's possibly quite like Fuji, since they'd been friends ever since they were really young.

And yes, I'd like to think that this is a love triangle, should Fuji be alive. Tezuka and Saeki, both of them after Fuji; now isn't that nice? I quite like Saeki/Fuji pairing. But in this chapter, it probably means that Saeki and Fuji had fooled around before but had never crossed that line. Should Fuji be alive, Tezuka would be the one who'd bring Fuji with him and they'd cross the happy line together. So, yeah, Tezuka/Fuji and mild Saeki/Fuji. Umm… I guess that's enough explanation for you all?

Please don't kill me…


End file.
